


Consuming Madness

by Penelope_S_Cartwright



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Tearjerker, well an eventual happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-26 20:50:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2665922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penelope_S_Cartwright/pseuds/Penelope_S_Cartwright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dark One has failed to separate himself from the dagger and has lost everything due to the secrets revealed. A tale of endings and beginnings, love, lies, and the trials of trust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The End

**Author's Note:**

> Dearest readers... this one is not for the faint of heart.

This is how it will always end.

He watches her pack her suitcase, hastily stuffing clothes and items into the ugly blue thing. He sees it is a relic of the beginning of the curse. Nothing like the sleek black luggage he has stored away in a closet on his third floor. The handle of hers is worn and smooth from use.

Though who used it to such a state, he couldn’t fathom. He never thought to replace hers.

He thinks he hears her voice and he glances up from the ugly suitcase to see beautiful blue eyes staring at him. They glare and accuse him of breaking their owner’s heart. They seem watery as if a moment from opening up a floodgate of tears.

“Are you even listening?”

He focuses again. This time he sees the whole of her. Her hair is haphazardly pulled back into a ponytail. Her lips tremble with each short breath. Her skin is pale and blotchy at some bits. She is still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, the day they defeated the Snow Queen, the day Anna arrived on shore, the day he failed to separate himself from the dagger…

The day Belle Gold found out about everything.

“I am,” he says. His voice is raspy from disuse and fatigue.

“I’m leaving. You can be happy alone with your power.”

“Belle—“ He tries to find the words he needs, pleading.

“Don’t, Rumple. Please.”

“Belle,” he tries again, “don’t do this. Don’t leave me.”

“You kept this from me.” She practically snarls as she points to the dagger lying on the dresser.

            “It wasn’t what you think—“

            “What was I supposed to think? That you actually trusted me? That you let me worry and stress out on what would happen if the dagger had fallen into the wrong hands? What the hell was I supposed to think, Rumple!”

            He tries to reach for her, his hands working on their own. She raises a hand to ward him off.

            “Belle, I was only doing it because I wanted to protect you,” he starts. That almost sounds true. The words drip from his lips, each weakening before they even make it out.  

            “Don’t come any closer!” She warns and takes another step back. “You lied to me, and continued to lie to me even after I—I admitted to being wrong. Why didn’t you tell me then, Rumple?”

            “Because I didn’t want to burden you with it!” he snaps. “You were already feeling guilty about Ana, what was the use in telling you? That bloody mirror already had you insecure enough!”

            “So it’s all my fault? That mirror didn’t lie to me!”

            “I was only doing what I thought was right.”

            “You chose your power over trusting me. Again. I can’t—I can’t…”

She reaches for her suitcase and tugs it off of their—his—bed. He stiffens as she walks towards him, but she gives him a wide berth as she moves past him and out into the hallway. It takes him a moment to react before he hurries after her.

“Belle, I’m sorry!”

She stops abruptly and he almost walks into her. He takes a step back so he can ignore the smell of roses and tea coming from her.

“Sorry isn’t enough anymore. Nothing is with you.” Her words tear into his flesh and burrow their way into his black heart. It falters and takes the breath away from him.

“Goodbye, Mr. Gold.”

He cannot say another word as he watches her turn and walk out of their—his—front door.

 

* * *

He cannot remember how he destroyed his home. He wakes up in his bed, miraculously saved from the rampant destruction around itself. The walls are scorched. Nothing breakable has survived. He eyes the glass shards glittering faintly in the morning light. When he gets up, the rest of his house is in a similar shape. None of his windows are intact. His kitchen glassware decorates the floor in strange mosaic patterns. His leather couch is shredded, the stuffing hanging out of it like intestines. His front door is barely holding on by a hinge.

The whole house reeks of magic.

Taking a deep breath, he senses new wards he has placed on the area. He tastes the metallic burn of magic and dryly swallows. His books look like shot birds on the floor, their pages flapping listlessly in the breeze. Some are charred and others are shredded. Ash finely covers the entire floor.

He winces as his knees hit the floor. All of his centuries of living fall crush down upon him and smother them in their endless wave of despair. He is still immortal. The dagger still controls him and alters his life. B—she is no longer in his life. His son is dead.

He wanders the town the rest of the day, eager to get away from the rumble that used to be his home. The town is out in force cleaning up the mess the Savoir and Evil Queen has made yet again. The clock on the library tower is missing a hand. Granny’s is missing her fence. Cars are overturned and trash litters the street. His shop is untouched. He avoids it and continues walking.

No one greets him.

No one meets his eye. 

He is truly alone, friendless and hated.

 

* * *

He stays at the cabin now, his home still in disrepair and holding too many haunting memories. He cannot tell how many days and nights have passed since he has taken residence in the isolated cabin. Only on one day he has had a visitor, but it was only the Prince checking to see if he was alive. He lives off of his magic, not feeling hunger nor pain. Not feeling much of anything anymore. He glances out one of the windows and sees snow on the ground; natural snow from the elements, not a destructive queen. He guesses it is winter and six months have mindlessly passed. He scratches at the beard covering his face. It isn’t very long, since he only stopped recently shaving.

_Recently_ having no real intrinsic value though.

Today his magic is awake and crackling at his fingertips. He doesn’t know why he feels… antsy? Restless? He cannot describe the feeling though it feels like something calling him toward the town, an itch he cannot ignore. He wants to refuse the call with every fiber of his being. He does not want to step back into Storybrooke proper ever again. He wants to linger in his silence, his stale peace in the middle of the woods. He doesn’t bother with a jacket.

He wears only a suit, the cloth faded with wear. It hangs from his thin frame. When he arrives in the town, only a few people spare him glances and look away. He must look like a vagrant, he thinks. No one really pays attention to him nor do they walk away in fear.

He appreciations no recognition.

It is only an hour into his wanderings that he hears _her_.

Her voice is strong and clear. His heart reminds him that it is still there, buried deep in his chest with its sudden, furious beating. He spies her walking along the pier with someone. She looks much better than he has seen in a very long while.

Her skin glows with health, clear and porcelain-looking smooth. Her hair is down, curled and shinning in the weak winter sunlight. Her clothes are new. He has never seen her in pants and a sweatshirt. The look is relaxed yet fits her. She laughs freely at whatever her companion has said. His eyes immediately dart to the man next to her when she reaches for the stranger’s hand, the familiarity readily apparent.

The man is tall, thin, and dark headed. There is nothing striking to him yet he is classically handsome. He cannot remember ever seeing this man.

His heart stops as he sees their hands entwined.

Belle had always been tactile with him, touching him, bumping into him as they walked, brushing his hair back from his face. He watches as she nudges her shoulder into the man’s side and they continue to stroll back towards the center of town, back to the library he realizes.

He does not know this man and cannot remember if Belle had any male friends other than Prince Charming and the grumpy dwarf, whatever the hell is his name. His chest tightens and his breathing stops in his throat.

He stalks behind them, hiding in an alleyway when they stop in front of the library. Belle’s smile is breath-taking, happiness gushing through every gesture she makes. The man squeezes her hand before stepping away with a deep laugh and wave, walking away with a smile gracing his face.

A million thoughts race through his mind.

A friend? Yes, that’s it. She’s only made a new friend. Only that. Friends held hands, right? They invaded personal space and shared laughter with each other. True?

He can't remember what it was like to feel such things. He feels more beast at that moment than any in his life. He doesn’t know how to react. Jealously surges through his veins and the last, traitorous thought—a thought he does not even want in his head—pops up and confronts him like a slap to the face. He fights it back before he jumps to conclusions.

He watches her enter the library and moves forward. He sees the new signs embellishing the front doors.

**Belle French….Librarian**

The library’s hours are displayed below her name. Her maiden name. He peers through the glass and sees her rearranging something at the front desk. Her nameplate there has been changed back to her old one, also. His fists clench. He pulls himself away from the library before someone becomes suspicious of the grizzled man loitering in front. His shop is the only place where he can take abrupt refuge. The dust chokes him when he opens the door. The entire shop is grey with it. Everything is as he left it all those months ago. The back of the shop is in the same sorry state as the front but not nearly as bad. A manila folder is the only thing out of place. He approaches his work bench and opens it carefully, fear of the unknown making his hand shake. A packet of stapled paperwork is inside. He sees but cannot comprehend. His feet take him to the cot behind him and he lifelessly slumps onto it. Her signature possesses all the right spots he quickly noticed. His mind finally acknowledges that deadly, shattering thought.

She has moved on.

The divorce papers lying on his table the final proof. 


	2. Falsus Paci

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and subscriptions! Again, this will be RumBelle. It will be a while until they can manage their issues. They both have many.

The morning light enters softly and illuminates her bedroom. She’s always been a night owl so it is rare that she appreciates the wakening light. She is reluctant to get up, her bed warm and cozy. She glances to the side and sees she has a couple hours until she must open the library. She sits up slowly, stretching and shivering slightly in the cool air. The apartment has always been a little drafty. Leroy has come numerous times in the last few months to help make repairs but it seems as if it will be perpetually cool in the small rooms. A quick shower and dressing helps ward the chill away.

She has breakfast at Granny’s everyday thanks to Red. Red has become one of her closest friends along with Snow, Elsa, and Adam. Emma doesn’t trust her. She can’t really blame her because she doesn’t trust herself half the time. She has become more herself, more confident and brave. She is still missing parts of her heart but she manages. She has to go on.

“Good morning, Belle!”

Red happily greets her. Red’s eyes are alive with a tint of gold and Belle remembers the full moon is approaching. The smell of pancakes, eggs, and bacon make her mouth water. She has become addicted to coffee thanks to Granny, drinking it every morning with cream and a dash of sugar. She won’t drink it during the day or she will be up in her apartment, cleaning and reading until the early hours of dawn. That comes from experience.

“What are you going to do tonight?” Red asks. “Want to go to Snow’s with me and watch movies? A girl’s night?”

The library is closed tomorrow so she cheerily nods through a mouthful of toast and smiles after she swallows.

“This isn’t an attempt to get me to babysit Neal again, is it?”

“No!” Red honestly says. “I thought we’d get you out of the apartment, have a little down time.”

Belle smiles and agrees. She leaves the diner with her jacket pulled tightly to her body. The snow is falling lighter today and she’s grateful for it. She’s come to respect it, valuing the beauty of it and knowing the destructive force of such an element. She makes it to the library in record time, unlocking the doors and getting ready for a slow day.

The people of Storybrooke are tired of the snow already and won’t venture out into it much. She hopes to see her usual’s like Archie and Doc. Adam walks in a few minutes later. She gives him a ‘hi’ and proceeds with her work.

Adam is a new _friend_. He has been there for her for the last three months and helps around the library. After Red, he is her closest confidant. He does not have angry evil queens looking for him, or witches trying to track him down and kill him. He is ordinary and plain, with the exception that he is a werewolf with Red’s pack.

He is safe.

She believes her adventures with Snow Queens and beasts are at an end. Storybrooke is peaceful and quiet, the town it should have been had it been a true one on the eastern shore of Maine. None of the residents are eager to go home, most preferring this world now that the villains are not present. Her heart aches for a moment, wishing she knew what happened to one in particular.

The last six months have been anything but rosy and quiet for her. She returned to her former home the day after she found out the truth about the dagger to see it in total ruins. The walls were crumbling. She had tried to step inside and was pushed back by a new ward. That had made her furious and cemented her resolve to never step foot in the building again.

The shop is a different matter. After her failed attempt to go back, she had run to city hall and asked for divorce papers. It should have disconcerted her how quickly and eager the clerk was to help her. She signed every document she needed to and left them in the shop. She almost didn’t. The shop door had opened to her, but she dismissed that as ignorant hope. She left the manila folder on the table and left without looking back.

She doesn’t know if the papers were filed or if they are covered in dust, lying unmoving on the table. She doesn’t know if she cares enough. Her heart is still broken and aches when she remembers her husband. It’s easier to think of Rumplestiltskin now after not seeing him. She doesn’t even know if he’s in this world. He is clever enough to have found another way back to the Enchanted Forrest and he had kept secrets from her. She reasons as she takes a sip of coffee that she continues to care for him. One can’t step away from True Love but it can be hindered.  One can’t be hurt if they don’t care. She jumps as a hand waves in front of her face and takes her out of her musings.

“You okay there, Belle?”

“What? Oh, I’m fine. Just thinking.” She warmly smiles at Adam as he takes the books she’s rechecked-in and starts to shelve them.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not right now,” she says, her smile faltering before she turns back to the computer.

Adam knows her past. She was surprised to find that he had no personal dealings with her husband—maybe ex-husband. Mostly everyone in the town is connected to Rumplestiltskin or had history with him one way or another. Adam does not. He is from a kingdom farther than any in their realm and was banished for being “a cad.” She sees his temper sometimes and his impatience. It is nothing like her ex’s—her husband’s anger, not as fierce. Rumple would have liked Adam.

She buries herself in her work, willing her thoughts to move in a different direction. It works until she walks out for lunch with Adam.

She first notices that the lights are on in the shop. She wants to run inside and see proof for herself that Rumple is there. She wants to yell at him again and tell him everything that has been festering inside her mind for months. She wants to know he’s actually there.

“You look like you want to charge the door,” a voice interrupts her thoughts.

“I do,” she answers. “I want to know if he’s back.”

She doesn’t have to go inside. The door to the shop opens and a man steps out. She gasps and doesn’t recognize him for a moment. He has a beard and is greyer than she has ever seen him. His clothes are once again perfect but slimmer than she remembers. His hair is longer, reaching down past his shoulders. He glances right at her.

She doesn’t know why she does it, but she needs an anchor. She grabs Adam’s hand and steers him away from the shop. The feel of his warm grip in hers grounds her and makes her heart slow.

“Belle!”

Rumple’s voice is deeper, sadder than she has ever heard it. She hears the _tap_ _tap_ _tap_ of his polished shoes before Adam tugs on her to stop.

“You have to talk to him,” he mutters.

She doesn’t want to turn around and face him. She knows he is keeping his distance, but she doesn’t want to see him so closely. She doesn’t want him to see her heartbreak again. She takes a deep breath and turns, her face becoming stone and stoic. She sees him feet away, his face harder and closed-off. She keeps a firm grip on Adam’s hand.

She won’t speak first. She refuses to become the starting point again, to start anything. She thinks she has tried the hardest and fought so much to save what they had had. It’s his turn to step up. She’s done fighting for a person who would not fight for her.

“Belle, can I speak to you, in private?” His tone is imperious and it enflames her to no end.

“Whatever you have to say you can say in front of Adam.” She’s glad her voice doesn’t shake. It is stronger than she has ever heard it, her inflection clear and uncompromising. She can see Rumple is not happy about it at all. His shoulders are squared off as if getting ready to fight.

“I don’t want to talk about our marriage in front of your boyfriend.”

She sees red and takes a step forward before Adam has a sure grip on her arm.

“You mean the marriage in which you lied to me everyday? That one!” She will not correct his assumption. She is more than willing to make an ass of herself if he wants to be so fucking bull-headed. The anger flows through her and leaves her feeling sick.

“What am I even doing here,” she hears him mumble, before he thrusts something at her. It is the manila envelope.

“Take it. I’ve already made a check for your half of everything.”

“What do you mean ‘my half?’” She asks. She doesn’t reach for the documents.

“You’re a rich woman, Belle _French_ ,” he sneers. “I supposedly owed you half of my finances according to those documents.”

“I don’t want anything—.”

“But it’s still there nonetheless. Don’t you remember I’m a lawyer?”

“Maybe you two should calm down and go talk about it?” Adam tries again to set a more neutral tone.

“Stay out of this. You may be her new lover but I was there first.”

That hurts and makes her stop struggling against Adam’s grip. She feels his hand tighten on her arm before it releases her and he steps back. His eyes are a shade lighter, the tell-tale sign he is angry and fighting for control. Rumple’s head turns to the side, examining the man next to her.

“You do have a thing for monsters, don’t you, dearie?”

She blocks Adams advance by stepping in front of him, her back to his front. She can hear his growl and can only imagine the state he is in. Her fists are clenched by her side.

“You’re a fool, Rumplestiltskin. You’re still the same bitter sorcerer you’ve always been. Thank you for reminding me. I thought…”

She curses her mouth for going on without her mind and feels tears start to prickle at the corners of her eyes. She takes another deep breath and meets his eyes, pushing for resolve in every fiber of her being. She’ll be the better person.

“I thought you would fight for me. You’re good at proving me wrong.”

He finally reacts, his bravado slumping with his shoulders, his face stricken and open for the first time. She sees the hurt and tiredness in every line. She sees that she is not the only one heartbroken.

“Belle, I—“

“Forget it, Mr. Gold.”

She turns towards Adam to see his eyes wolfish, but his face has calmed. He looks to her and silently agrees with her to leave. She takes his arm and coxes him away from the broken man behind them.

Adam leaves her when the library closes, going back to his home after tea and listening to her vent her feelings. She surprises herself with not crying and forgetting about the earlier incident over films with Snow and Red. She almost sleeps peacefully that night, waking only from dreams of green imps sneering at her and brunette men being loving and caring. The next day is much the same, her mind focused on a new book and cocoa before she receives a call from City Hall.

 

Her papers have been [finally] turned in, would she like a finalized copy of her divorce?


	3. One Day at a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our couple finally have a much needed late night conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where this fic starts to earn it's "E"

“Rumple…”

He could still hear her breathy moan in his ear, feel her fingers glide against the skin of his back. He could smell her scent, an exotic mixture of fine tea and aged parchment with hints of vanilla or something sweeter. Her panting in his ear always made him harder, made him feel virile and proud. He knows every crevice of her body, knows every sensitive part that makes her giggle or gasp. He knows that he could make her come by focusing his thrusts to rub her clit and by saying ‘I love you’ in a harsh, breathless whisper straight in her ear. And he knows she’s not there, not in his bed anymore.

He wakes up lying on his stomach, his erection grinding into the mattress. He is sweaty and flushed but he doesn’t continue on with his actions. He rolls onto his back and tries to think of anything else but her. He thinks of his newly restored home and the sudden influx of deals once the residents of Storybrooke found out he was back.  He tries to think of where else he could go now that he had nothing holding him back, but the thoughts of what Belle might be doing at—he glances at his clock—two in the morning, make him feel sick and jealous and hurt. Was she with her lover, closely embraced and sleeping languidly after sex? He refuses to call it making-love. How long has she known that man? Would she welcome someone new in her bed after only six months apart?

He knows the views of sex in this world and it worries him. He also wishes he knew what she would do. He can imagine her being slightly reckless and impulsive. But she is smart and does really know the consequences of such actions.

Hell, it took both of them a year to feel comfortable enough to try for a first kiss.

His body is calmer but he is not reassured. He thinks of the paperwork he turned in yesterday, all signed and complete. Final. His heart aches in his chest and his eyes get moist. He won’t cry.

If she wants to be rid of him, then he won’t get in her way anymore. He will respect her wishes and leave her be. His chest gets tighter, the pain throbbing. He never thought he could love someone so much after Bae. He loves her and wants nothing more than to go and barge into her apartment to see the evidence of her moving on. He wants proof that she does not love him. He knows it will tear him apart and shatter his soul, but he needs it.  He thinks that True Love cannot be so easily overcome. The Charmings have faced obstacle after obstacle, many of his making, and have come out of it unscathed. He remembers the Prince’s words about honesty of the heart. He doesn’t remember getting out of bed, but he is on his feet and moving to get dressed. He forgets that it is past two in the morning and every person should be asleep.

* * *

 

He parks his car at the shop before walking towards the library. The streets are clear of any of the townspeople and the night quiet. The moon is a day from being full so it is bright and clear. It is a beautiful night. He is surprised to see that the lights are on in her apartment. Belle is an early riser and not one for long nights. He climbs the stairs carefully and peers through the window by her door. He feels like a stalker, not truly knowing if he will knock or only watch her for a moment before he disappears. He sees her sitting in her small kitchen nook, a mug of probably cocoa in front of her. Her face is wan and a bit blotchy. Her hair is down in loose curls. He sees she is wearing her flannel pajama bottoms with his grey sweatshirt and his heart jumps. He also hears the growling behind him.

He hurriedly knocks as he sees a wolf at the bottom of the stairs. He wants nothing more than to curse the creature but he holds back. It is a mistake to be here he realizes, especially if _he’s_ guarding her.

“Mr. Gold?”

The creature quiets when Belle opens the door and peers around him. She slightly frowns before speaking.

“I’m okay, Ruby, thank you.”

So it is the she-wolf prowling around the library. He silently berates himself for that mistake. His jealousy is getting that better of him. He cannot afford to make mistakes. It is too quiet and he sees that Belle is waiting for him to speak.  
“Hey.”

The word falls off his lips with hesitation and trepidation. His voice is husky from nerves and the closeness of her. She doesn’t respond, but moves to close the door.

“Wait, Belle,” he says in a rush. “I need to speak with you.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“I’m sorry,” he continues.

She sadly laughs, her face showing every ounce of her unhappiness.

“I’ve heard that before. Dozens of times, in fact.”

“Please, can I talk to you inside? In private?”

The wolf growls again and places a paw onto the stairs. He ignores it and watches Belle with quiet desperation.  Belle hesitates. _She is going to close the door and that’ll be it, it’ll be done_ , his mind races. He won’t have another chance. Ever.

But she steps away and gestures for him to come in. She doesn’t offer him a seat or anything, him not expecting her to. Belle has a long memory and a fierce temper and it will take everything he has to get her to just listen.  He hears her snuffle as she reaches for a tissue and sits back down in the kitchen nook. He takes a seat in the lone chair in front of the table.

The silence lingers and is horribly awkward. It feels like they are complete strangers and in some ways, he apprehends, they are. Her voice slices through the tension.

“If you’re only going to stare…”

“No,” he quickly utters, “I want…are you okay?”

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , he thinks. She laughs again before answering him.

“What do you think? I got notice that I am a divorced woman today—yesterday,” she amends. “My true love no longer.”

He has never heard her so bitter. It eats at him that this is a direct result of all his actions, of his selfishness. His heart races in his chest and tightens with something close to agony.

“You filed first. You wanted to divorce me. Tell me to leave again and I won’t ever come back…”

He immediately regrets his words. Her eyes fill with tears and she sobs as she shakes her head.

“You’re a fool, Rumple,” she mutters. “And still a coward, always running. I’ve only seen you fight for love once, for Bae, and it was everything I knew you were—a brave, good man… it was a fluke I know now.”

“It wasn’t,” he argues. “I was ready to die for the both of you. I did. Do you know what coming back feels like? What coming back and watching my son die did to me?”

“No! Because you never shared it with me! You didn’t even talk about your time with Zelena. You closed me out and pretended everything was okay until nothing was.”

“I couldn’t talk about it. I’m willing to now.”

Her eyes widen in surprise.

“Why now? To win me back? It won’t work.”

“I don’t expect you to come back. Only to listen…”

Belle sniffles once more and reaches for another tissue. She pulls the sleeves of his sweater up her arms. The room is cozy, warm but not stifling. He runs his hand through his hair to move it out of his face. It makes him think of all the times the woman in front of him has done it for him.

“Tea?”

He needs time to gather his thoughts. He’s stalling to figure out a starting point. He knows Belle knows because of her raised eyebrow and her sardonic look. She shakes her head no.

“Nevermind,” he mutters and waves a hand in front of himself, a glass of his expensive scotch appearing. If he is going to think of the past, he will do it with a drink. He takes a sip and begins. He hopes he doesn’t screw it up. At least not too badly.

“Do you know what’s out there when you die? Nothing, Belle. I remembered nothing between stabbing my father and seeing you cradling Bae in your arms in the snow. Just darkness. Seeing Bae slip away and then losing the dagger… There is nothing more demeaning than someone controlling your every action and reveling in it.”

He takes another sip.

“With Bae in my head, I saw everything he thought of me. Every horrible thought. Every feeling of abandonment. There was hardly anything good he thought of me. I would have switched my life for his. I couldn’t though. I could think and plan revenge yet I couldn’t even sleep without her telling me to.”

He watched as Belle silently got up and got a glass of water. She brought it back to the table.

“I almost killed you that night when she ordered me. She didn’t care enough about you though. More willpower and a minute later, I would have had my hands around your pretty neck regardless of how much I love you.”

She cringes, whether from the admission of love or death he doesn’t know, but she doesn’t blink or turn her gaze. She’s brave, his Belle.

“When Zelena dropped the dagger, I could finally breathe,” he pauses and more quietly says, “I could feel, all the anger, the loss of my only son… no chance of making up all those years to him.”

He suddenly feels Belle’s hand grasping his. There is compassion filled in her lovely blue eyes, emotion flooding through her face. It makes his own eyes watery and his cheeks flush.

“I’m sorry, Rumple,” Belle whispers. She grips his hand firmer before slipping it out of his grasp. “But it doesn’t explain this need for power or why you always choose it before love. I don’t understand how a man who has so much, continues to lay it to waste.”

Belle crosses her arms and leans back into her seat. Her look is fierce now, the compassion hiding in the background. To him, this is the hardest part, the part of the conversation he dreaded from the moment he stepped into her apartment.

“I refuse to be weak.”

He could see the anger suffuse her face. It flushes her skin a pretty pink and makes her eyes glitter, the color becoming darker like sapphire.

“If you think your magic makes you strong, you’re lying to yourself, Rumple.”

“It’s all I have to protect what’s mine.”

“What? A little pawn shop and a house? What else do you have now?”

“I’ve protected you,” he growls. Anger flares at the thought of her dismissing his magic. “I’ve saved you.”

“And lost me to it.”

The legs of the chair harshly scrape against the floor as he stands up. He can’t sit down anymore. He needs to move. The apartment feels too small for him, stuffy and suffocating. This is the one conversation they have managed to avoid since she stepped foot out of his castle all those years ago. It is the one he knows they should have had before their marriage, when their feelings of love were fresh. Not how it is now, not with this anger deforming it.

“I never want to be controlled again. I never wanted to be a slave to an item. The dagger is always there in my mind, though I know it is safe where it cannot be found. With the hat gone, I’ll never be free.”

“You had other options,” her patience snaps. “We could have gone back to the Enchanted Forest and broken your spell there. I don’t know why True Love’s kiss doesn’t work here for us—“

“I won’t go back to that infernal land and be nothing!”

“You wouldn’t be ‘nothing.’ You’d be a husband! I won’t be second to your powers so if you still feel that way, walk away.”

He falters. He wants to storm out of the door and fume and rage. He wants to break the glass in front of him against a wall. He doesn’t get a chance to answer as Belle goes on.

“Rumple, please,” she quietly murmurs, and it breaks his heart to hear the sadness coloring her voice. “I would have helped you find a way to free yourself from the dagger. I would have been there for you if you had only asked… but you didn’t. I was your wife and you couldn’t even trust me. After lying through our whole marriage, I can’t trust you.”

He knows she’s being the upmost sincere. He knows she would have fought tooth and nail to free him from the dagger. She is as courageous as she is beautiful, her soul brighter than any sun.

“What can I do?” he impulsively asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to lose you. It killed me to sign those papers, Belle. If you want rid of me, once and for all, tell me so… otherwise, tell me what to do.”

The silence weighs heavily on him. The emotions flashing across her face make it difficult for him to read her.

“Give me time,” she suddenly says. “And space,” she adds. “Seeing you back…I don’t know what to do or how I really feel. I want to see if maybe—maybe,” she stresses, “we can go on. Together. Only if you trust me and are willing to work on us, work on being the good man I know is lost in you. I know you’ll still manipulate people for your own ends, and,” she glares at him, “I know you probably haven’t given up pursuit of freeing yourself of the dagger. I loved all of you. See if you can let me help this time. I’ll be a friend or ally first.”

She’s so earnest, her eyes a second from shedding tears. He’s never heard her speak of her love for all facets of his life. He had no clue. It is like a punch in his gut to realize how little he knew of their love.

“Okay,” he answers and steps away, vanishing the glass and preparing to leave. “May I call on you then? In future?”

“Yes,” she replies. She gets to her feet and beats him to the door. She holds it open for him. He feels like he should do something in that moment but nothing comes to mind that is appropriate or adequate. He wants to kiss her, hug her, hold her close. He knows it is not welcome. So he gives her a sad, accepting smile.

“And Adam?” he asks. It is the one thing he has skirted around since entering her apartment. He wants to know who this man is exactly.

“A friend,” Belle says with a finality that warns him not to push the topic. He can see the late hour has gotten to her. He glances at his watch and sees it is half past three now.

“Good night, Belle,” he murmurs as he passes, looking into her eyes one more time.

“Good night, Rumple,” she quietly responds. “We’ll—we’ll take this very slow. One day at a time.”

He nods to her and leaves. Rumplestiltskin has work to do.

**Author's Note:**

> After a few years absence from writing, I've been stuck with this plot for weeks. It will be a painful story to read, but I promise it will be well worth it. And for the record, it will be a RumBelle ending. 
> 
> Eventually.
> 
> Unbeta'ed so all mistakes are mine.


End file.
